Mistletoe and Holly (7 page)

She was halfway through when she heard the floorboards creaking overhead. There was a brief moment of curiosity, certain her aunt had mentioned that she’d already made her bed. Then Leslie shrugged it aside and thought no more about it until she heard her aunt coming down the stairs.
Her eyes widened in mild surprise at the red pantsuit her aunt was wearing.

“Are you going somewhere?” Leslie asked.

“The local nursing home is having its Christmas program this afternoon. I volunteered to help with the refreshments. Didn’t I mention it?” her aunt replied with an absent frown.

“No. Or, if you did, I’d forgotten.”

“You’re welcome to come with me,” her aunt hurried to assure her of that.

“No, thanks, I’ll stay here and read the paper.” She turned down the invitation, which came as no surprise to her aunt.

“It will probably be close to six o’clock before I’m back.” Her aunt slipped on her good coat with the dark mink collar and started for the kitchen. “Enjoy yourself.”

“I will.”

A few minutes after Leslie heard the side doors opening and closing, there was the muffled sound of an engine as a car reversed out of the driveway. The newspaper rattled companionably in the ensuing silence.

It didn’t last long as a series of knocks loudly intruded. Leslie started to reach for her crutches, then guessed who it had to be. Since her aunt never locked the back door, she simply called out, “Come in!” Two
sets of footsteps entered the kitchen, one light and one heavier. “I’m in the living room!” Leslie added.

Holly was the first to come dashing into the room, followed closely by Tagg Williams, his long strides making up for his slower pace. Holly leaned over the arm of Leslie’s chair and claimed her attention.

“What are you doing?” she asked brightly.

“Reading the Sunday paper,” Leslie stated the obvious, not needing to look at Tagg to be aware of the impact his presence made. He was standing a few feet away, his jacket unbuttoned to expose an ivory-colored sweater in a heavy ribbon-stitched knit.

“How are you with a needle and thread?” he asked.

The question momentarily threw her. “I can sew on a button. Why?”

“We need some help stringing popcorn and we thought we might be able to talk you into volunteering to give us a hand.” There was a hint of a challenge in his look. “Have you got anything better to do on a Sunday afternoon?”

“I’m sure that’s a matter of opinion,” Leslie replied because she knew he wouldn’t regard reading the paper as something better.

“Please, will you come over?” Holly added her plea. “Daddy’s good at popping popcorn, but he’s all thumbs with a needle.”

“It’s true,” Tagg insisted with mock force and
held out his left hand, wagging his fingers. “I stuck myself twice with the needle already. Holly thinks it ruins the popcorn to have dots of blood on it.”

Two flesh-colored bandages marked the wounded areas on his middle and forefinger. A tiny smile edged her mouth as she tried to picture someone as decidedly masculine as Tagg Williams pricking himself with a sewing needle.

“I know you’re not into tree-trimming, but I’ve got a fire crackling in the fireplace, cocoa warming on the stove, and lots of popcorn to eat …or string, if you’re more adept with a needle than I am.” He grinned crookedly, making it very difficult for Leslie to resist his appeal.

“I’ll help you,” Holly promised. “It will go faster with both of us doing it.”

“I can’t believe I’m letting myself get talked into this,” she declared on a laughing breath because she knew she was going to agree.

“Then you will help!” Holly realized with delight and spun away from her chair. “You were right, Daddy. You said she’d come.”

Her side glance at Tagg held a hint of accusation along with a touch of droll amusement. “Did someone let the cat out of the bag?”

“Let’s just say, I knew you’d take pity on a couple
of helpless souls.” His darkly tanned features were gentled by the suggestion of a smile.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you poked yourself with the needle on purpose,” Leslie accused, but without anger.

Tagg drew back in mock dismay. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do something like that?”

“I don’t think I’ll answer that.” The dryness in her voice was deliberate, indicating that he might be capable of such devious behavior.

“Here’s your crutches.” Holly gathered them up from where Leslie had them stored on the floor next to her chair. Now that Leslie had agreed to come, Holly was in a hurry for them to get under way.

Snowflakes were swirling out of a leaden sky as they crossed the driveway that separated the two houses. Woodsmoke was curling from the chimney of the Williams’ house, its pungent odor being carried down by the heavy air. Holly was quick to point out the tree framed by the front window, but it was difficult to see beyond the reflection of the glass in the daylight.

Boxes of tree ornaments and tinsel garlands were strewn across the chair and matching ottoman in the living room. The sofa seemed to be the only piece of furniture that had escaped the litter of Christmas decorations. A huge bowl of popcorn
was sitting at the coffee table in front of it, plus a six-inch-long strand of strung popcorn.

Balancing on first one crutch, then the other, Leslie took off her coat and passed it to Tagg to hang in the coat closet. She ran a hand through the length of her desert tan hair, trying to rid it of the static electricity that was making it cling to the green plaid sweater vest she was wearing.

“Daddy, can I plug in the tree lights so Leslie can see how nice it’s going to look?” Holly was already beside the tree with the electric plug in hand.

“First you get a pillow for Leslie so she can prop her leg on the coffee table. Then you can plug in the lights,” Tagg answered.

When she was comfortably settled on the sofa with her injured limb cushioned on a pillow, Holly plugged in the tree lights for Leslie to admire. After a few seconds, the white fairy lights began winking on and off in a haphazard pattern. Atop the tree, an aluminum star with a pale blue bulb shone down on the branches.

“It’s very nice, Holly.” Leslie had to make some comment for the child’s sake, but Holly sensed her lack of enthusiasm.

“It will look lots better when we put the rest of the stuff on the tree,” she insisted and wandered over to the sofa to sit down beside Leslie. “This is
the popcorn string I started.” She picked up the one lying beside the popcorn bowl. “I threw Daddy’s away. That’s his needle and string—what’s left of it anyway.”

“Shall we set the bowl between us and start in?” Leslie suggested.

“If you want to.” But Holly sounded preoccupied, her mind on other things than stringing the popcorn. Almost dutifully she nestled the bowl of popcorn on the sofa between them and handed Leslie the unused needle and string.

Out of the corner of her eye, Leslie was aware of Tagg walking to the fireplace and bending down to poke the glowing red coals. Another split log was added. Flames sprang up to pop and snap over the fresh fuel. Leslie began spearing popcorn on the needle and pushing the bunches down the string.

“How come you don’t like Christmas, Leslie?” Holly broke the short lull.

She flashed a quick glance at Tagg. He was watching her, but he gave no sign that he intended to jump in and field the question for her. Leslie hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

“It isn’t that I don’t like Christmas,” she tried to qualify her aversion to the season. “It’s all the fuss that goes along with it. It’s the decorations and the gift-giving and all the meaningless things that go
along with them. Too many people are making too much money off a day that’s supposed to be a religious holiday. I guess I believe the meaning of Christmas has become lost under the fancy foil wrappings and bright ribbons.”

“That’s why you don’t believe in Santa Claus, too.” Holly seemed troubled by Leslie’s failure to perpetuate the myth.

“Do you know what Christmas is?” Leslie didn’t want to go into the business of Santa Claus. It wasn’t her place to puncture the child’s belief in that myth.

“It’s the day Jesus was born. And we give presents to each other because the Three Wise Men brought gifts to the baby Jesus,” she answered without hesitation. “Our Sunday School is going to have a Christmas program, telling the story of Baby Jesus being born in the manger because there was no room in the inn. I’m going to be one of the sheep that came with the shepherds. Sally Tuttle says I’m going to be a black sheep because of my hair. She gets to be the angel.” Holly sighed at the unfairness of it.

“Black or white, you’ll make a good sheep.” Tagg straightened from his crouched position beside the hearth, joining the conversation.

“I don’t mind being a sheep, ‘cause I get to sit and watch everyone else.” Holly made it clear that she wasn’t bothered by the simpleness of her role in
the pageant. “When you were a little girl, what did you do in your Christmas program?”

“I played the cow—and please—” she glanced wryly at Tagg as he approached the sofa, “—no comments from you.”

“I was the inn-keeper who turned Mary and Joseph away,” he said to prove his childhood role had been nothing to brag about. Reaching over, he scooped up a handful of popcorn.

“You aren’t supposed to eat that, Dad,” Holly scolded him. “It’s for the tree.”

“Sorry.” Tagg crunched away at a half dozen popped kernels.

“Did you like Christmas when you were a little girl?” Holly was back on her previous subject.

“Mostly I think I liked all the presents under the tree,” Leslie admitted.

“Did Santa bring them?”

She held her breath a second, trying to find a way to avoid the question and not lie. “My parents gave me most of them.”

“It must be sad not to believe in the goodness of Santa Claus,” Holly declared.

The phrasing of her response shook Leslie a little. She glanced at the child, jet black hair falling forward across her cheeks as she bent her head to the task of stringing popcorn. She longed to question
what Holly had meant by believing “in the goodness of Santa Claus,” but she didn’t.

“Which do you want me to put on the tree next, Holly?” Tagg had moved to the armchair with its assortment of decorations. “The red garland or the gold one?”

“The red one.” Holly tossed her partially strung strand of popcorn onto the coffee table and pushed off the couch. “I’ll show you where I want it to go.”

Although Holly lent a hand now and then, Leslie ended up stringing most of the popcorn. She had to admit it looked very pretty draped around the green boughs of the tree like some lacy white ribbon.

After the garlands of tinsel and popcorn came the shiny Christmas balls in a variety of colors and sparkling patterns. Tiny strips of tinsel added the finishing touch. Holly took part in the last with gay abandon, throwing handfuls at the tree. Almost as much landed on the floor and Tagg as stayed on the limbs.

“You’ve still got some tinsel in your hair.” Leslie advised Tagg when he lowered himself onto the adjacent sofa cushion.

He combed his fingers through the thickness of his ebony dark hair, raking out the short pieces of tinsel. There was a wry light in his blue glance, warm with humor.

“I have the feeling we’re going to find tinsel in everything,” he murmured.

“She did get rather carried away,” Leslie agreed and half-turned to glance over the sofa’s back at his daughter. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the lighted Christmas tree.

Her elbows were propped on her knees to support her chin on her hands while Holly gazed at the glittering sight before her. The solid overcase beyond the front window pane had brought a premature darkness to the late afternoon sky. The clear glass reflected the winking lights of the tree, creating a magical scene.

“I think it’s just beautiful,” Holly sighed with theatrical exaggeration.

“It’s the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve ever seen,” Tagg agreed with tongue in cheek, then looked around the room. “The stockings are hung by the fireplace… with care. The nativity scene is on the mantel. The wax carolers are adorning the dining room table. All the decorations are out. All that’s left is for a little girl named Holly to clean up the mess.”

“Ahh, Daddy, not now,” she protested in a wheedling voice.

“Yes, now.” He remained firm under the coaxing appeal of her dark blue eyes. “Put all the boxes and packages in the closet. When you’re done, we’ll have some cocoa.”

“All right,” Holly gave in grudgingly and rolled to her feet with an agility that only the young seemed to possess.

“There’s a bright spot to all this,” Leslie said above the background noise Holly was making as she stacked the smaller boxes inside larger ones.

“What’s that?” Tagg tipped his head back to rest it on the top edge of the sofa. He rolled it to one side to look at her.

“In three weeks, you can take it all down and put it away until next year,” she teased.

“Don’t remind me.” He faked a groan and shut his eyes with seeming weariness. “I haven’t recovered from chopping down the tree, so I can’t say I’m looking forward to hauling it out.”

“Your muscles are stiff, hmm?” Leslie guessed.

“I wonder why,” Tagg murmured dryly. “It couldn’t be because I pulled you on that sled for nearly two miles, plus chopped down the Christmas tree.”

“You left out the part where you carried me from the car to the sled,” she reminded him.

“That’s right,” he remembered, thick lashes sweeping up to let his blue eyes study her again. “A really good secretary would be an expert at shoulder and neck massages. I’ve had a hard week. Why don’t you give me a good rubdown?”

“Sorry. I draw the line at coffee and a massage.”
Her refusal was brightly casual and offhand, but the hint of intimacy in his probing gaze made her feel anything but casual inside.

“I have the feeling that’s not the only time you draw the line,” Tagg said with a throaty chuckle.

“Hey, Dad! Look!” Holly cried excitedly from behind the couch, rattling a paper sack. “We don’t have all the decorations up.”

There was only so far Leslie could turn without moving her rigidly braced leg. Her head was turned as far to the side as it would go, but all she could see of Holly was her arm resting on the back of the sofa. The girl was evidently standing directly behind her. Something made Leslie glance at Tagg. His gaze was locked on a point a few inches above her head. She looked up and saw the sprig of mistletoe Holly was dangling above her.